


Lost and Found

by Into_Oblivion



Category: Anthrax (US Band), Megadeth, Metallica
Genre: 1990s, Accidents, Alternate Universe, Bar, Bikers, Brain Damage, Crying, Diapers, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Homelessness, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Out of Character, Violence, Wrongful Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Into_Oblivion/pseuds/Into_Oblivion
Summary: In 1989, James Hetfield is wrongfully imprisoned for the death of his young son. He's released 7 years into his sentence and free to be himself again.He joins a group of bikers and they soon become friends, but on his way home from the bar one night he notices a group of thugs beating up a homeless Lars Ulrich, which of course, he steps in to stop, rushing him to the hospital after.Over time, he bonds with Lars, who is now mentally a baby due to a brain injury, eventually taking him into his home and raising him as his new baby.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

_ Then _

James Hetfield frowns as he stands before a judge, handcuffed and distraught over the death of his son, something he was completely incapable of causing.

  
  
He simply couldn’t understand how the jury all seemed to be against him, shunning and condemning him for the crime that he didn’t commit. 

Sure, with his undercut mullet, nose ring and outright “ugly” appearance, he could completely see how they’d all be quick to judge. 

However, they were all wrong, because James loved his son more than anything in the entire world, and became his best friend after he and his wife split, leaving the boy in his custody.

  
  
James did everything a good father should do, gave the boy a clean place to live, plenty of food and attention, something his mother never seemed to care for or even wanted to provide.

  
  
The woman was a heavy drinker and often left the then 3 year old boy unattended while she’d drink herself to sleep, taking a cocktail of drugs whenever she ran out of liquor to fuel her high.

  
  
It was a miracle she was even still alive, and James would never forget the day he had to go get the boy from her disgusting home.

  
  
There were ashtrays full of cigarette butts, empty bottles of almost every liquor imaginable strewn about the floor, and there she was, passed out on the couch while the boy sat on the floor, trying to salvage whatever crumbs he could from the carpet. 

Needless to say, he was beyond pissed, his heart breaking whenever he realized the full extent of her alcoholism and drug abuse.

  
  
He couldn’t believe his son had to live this way, and there was no way he was going to stand for it anymore.

  
  
James ended up with full custody of the boy after his mother was investigated and deemed unfit to be a parent, something James was very thankful for. 

However, what followed was something James never expected in his whole life.

  
  
One day, while the two were sitting together at the table, the boy bit off a little more than he could chew of a carrot, the small cube of food quickly becoming lodged in his throat.

  
  
James acted as quickly as he could, performing the heimlich maneuver to try and dislodge the food, but it was stuck, with no way of coming out.

  
  
Panic swept over James and he did his best to remain calm, pushing on his son’s chest, but it was to no avail as the child was already gone.

  
  
James, unaware of that, quickly drove the boy to a nearby hospital, where he was then pronounced dead. 

Grief-stricken, James soon fell into a deep depression, becoming somewhat of a recluse and refusing to talk to anyone about the incident. 

This all changed whenever he was greeted by two police officers banging on his door at 11:00 a few nights later.

  
  
Of course, he always complied with them, no matter what their ridiculous orders were, but this time, James was furious about what he’d been told.

  
  
Apparently,  _ he  _ was the one responsible for his son’s death, not a fucking piece of carrot..no..he allegedly strangled him to death, seeing how there were imprints of his hands against the boy’s throat.

  
  
This didn’t end well, and James was carted off to the station, where he was kept incarcerated until the date of his trial...which just so happened to be today. 

Here we are, back at the front of this story....

James felt as if he were 10 inches tall as he stood before the judge, sweating nervously as he was terrified that the man would not rule in his favor. 

They didn’t really even have any solid evidence to go on, just a picture of a large handprint...belonging to James, around the child’s neck.

“So..Mr...Hetfield, is it? I’m here today to determine if you’re responsible for your son’s death or not.” The judge says, putting on his glasses.

  
  
James nodded, tapping his nails against the desk he stood behind nervously, feeling as if he were going to melt into a puddle from the amount of sweat he was producing. 

“Really, the only evidence we have to go by is a photograph taken of the child after he arrived at the hospital, with what appears to be a man’s...I’m assuming yours...handprint around the neck.” 

James shook his head at that, knowing they were blowing this all out of proportion and for no reason, he was an innocent man. 

One investigator held up an evidence bag with a small smirk.

“That’s not all, your honor, we collected DNA at the scene, and there was no one else’s but James’, meaning he  _ has  _ to be the one who killed that boy.” 

James’ brows furrowed in anger as he shot a look to the investigator, who didn’t even seem bothered.

  
  
“Well, of course my DNA is gonna be at the scene, he was  _ my  _ son, are you crazy?! I was trying to save him!” James growled. 

“Mr. Hetfield! That’s enough out of you! I want you to stand there and be quiet as I examine this and make this ruling!” 

James wanted to say something else, but decided not to, knowing that if he kept his mouth shut, the judge just  _ might  _ rule in his favor. 

Of course, this proved to be useless, as the judge placed the evidence down, clearing his throat. 

All the jury’s votes had been tallied and presented, as well.

  
  
“James Hetfield, the jury has voted and they’ve all determined that you…are guilty on a count of involuntary manslaughter, and you shall be sentenced to a maximum of 15 to 25 years.” 

Upon hearing that, James felt his blood run cold, and as much as he wanted to cry, to scream, to lash out at the judge, he didn’t, accepting his fate with a soft nod. 

He then found himself being escorted from the courtroom, giving one last glance of disappointment to the judge and jury before walking through the door. 

That was the last thing he saw before coming face to face with a prison cell, in which he would sit for the duration of his sentence. 

_ Now _

Seven years have passed, each one being increasingly more lonely and frustrating for James, who’d spent most of his time grieving the loss of his son.

  
  
He was furious at that judge for putting him in this hell and he felt as if he were stuck in limbo, not even beginning to face all the circles and the wrath of this blazing inferno.

Sure, he’d made friends with numerous other men there, forming a bond that felt more to him like a family, rather than just a group of people herded together in this backwards justice system. 

However, there was nothing in the world that could replace his son, or the love he had for him. 

James had struggled and fought tooth and nail for that boy, and when he finally had him where he was safe and they were together, that unthinkable thing happened. 

It shattered him, leaving him broken and unsure where to turn for advice, for acceptance, for any kind of positivity. 

He seemed to actually find it behind these prison walls, behind those locked and guarded doors, the nearly impenetrable structure he’d called “home” for the past seven years. 

As much as James hated to admit it, the place was kinda growing on him, in some weird way. 

At least here he had moral support from his group of friends who were determined that they were wrongfully convicted, as well as some of them who have lost children of their own. 

He never truly felt alone, even when he sat in his cell by himself, always remembering the conversations they all had. 

However, James had no idea that before the end of today, he would actually be a free man.

As he stood out in the yard with some of his friends, he noticed his lawyer, walking to him with a smile present on his face. 

Out of all the lawyers available in the state of California, James was convinced he’d been paired with the best one possible.

  
  
The man had been understanding and just as compassionate for his case as he was, and was a great ally to him. 

“Mr. Hetfield? I found something that I think you’d definitely be interested in hearing.” He smiled.

  
  
James perked up at that, smile spreading across his face, already liking what he was hearing. 

He was led to a small room, which was sometimes used for interrogation, taking a seat at the table across from his lawyer, who opened his briefcase, pulling out a few documents. 

“So, what’d you find that you wanna tell me about so badly? Am I getting outta here, or something?” James joked. 

“Well...actually...yes. You  _ are  _ getting out of here, James. I’ve been working tediously hard on your case and I’m happy to announce that you’ve been wrongfully imprisoned for the last seven years.” 

James scoffs. “Oh, really? You think so? I knew I wasn’t guilty, man, I would never kill my own son!” 

The lawyer nods. “I know. I knew you weren’t guilty, either. That jury and judge were out of their minds when they made that ruling.” 

“Yeah, they were! Man...I can’t believe it...after all these years, I’m finally getting out..I can finally have my life back!” 

“Yes, you can, James. You can go back to living as you did before...although you’ll probably get some unwanted comments here and there, but don’t let them get to you, you’re an innocent man in my eyes.” 

James nods, blinking away tears as he imagines how life will now be for him as a free,  _ innocent  _ man, living amongst the rest of the population as if none of this had ever happened. 

“Come on, man. Let’s get you out of here and back into society again...then you can start all over with some nice lady...maybe buy a house or rent a nice apartment.” 

James smiles as he rises from the table, exiting the room, along with his lawyer, who runs the situation past one of the wardens.

He allows James to collect his belongings, of which there were few, most notably a choker with a wolf’s head pendant in the middle, along with a few metal rings and his wallet. 

James fastens the choker around his neck after slipping the rings onto his fingers. He slips into another room to change into a pair of jeans and a Misfits t-shirt, graciously dropped off by his neighbor, Scott. 

Scott was appalled and outraged by the sentence served to James, knowing his neighbor could never be capable of such a heinous crime. 

Once he was dressed, he stepped out with a sigh, thankful to finally be out of that horrid prison jumpsuit, jeans and an old t-shirt beating that any day. 

Now, with everything taken care of, James was now free to leave the facility, walking out of the front gate, along with his lawyer, who wished him a safe trip home. 

He stops at a nearby payphone, dialing Scott’s number and hoping he’s actually home.

  
  
The phone rings for a few minutes before Scott answers on the other line, nearly dropping the plate of food he was holding when he heard James’ voice. 

_ “James? Is that you, man? Come on, don’t be fucking with me.”  _

James scoffs lightly. “I’m not, man, it’s me. I literally just got out of prison today!”

  
  
Scott’s brows raise in surprise and he shakes his head in disbelief, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. 

_ “Oh shit, that’s awesome! Do you need me to come pick you up or something?”  _

“Yeah, man, that'd be great, if you don’t mind.” James says, twirling the phone cord. 

_“Sure! I’ll be there as soon as I can.”_ Scott says, the two saying their goodbyes before hanging up. 

Scott sighs, looking down at the burger he’d made.

  
  
“Looks like you’ll have to wait, burger. I’ve got something much more important to deal with right now.” 

He places the plate on the nearby countertop and tugs on some shoes, grabbing his keys as he heads out the door, hopping into his patina yellow 1970 c10 and starting the engine, pulling onto the street after. 

Nearly 30 minutes of driving pass before Scott finally reaches the nearby prison, checking with the guard before pulling through the gate, where James was still waiting beside the phone booth. 

However, he perks up at the sight of the hideous yellow truck before him, quickly dashing to it, giving Scott a grin as he hops inside.

  
  
“I see you’re still driving this big yellow monster, huh? I thought you would have traded it in for a minivan by now…” He laughs teasingly. 

Scott rolls his eyes fondly, looking over James, not wanting to believe he was actually seeing his friend again...after seven long years. 

“It’s so good to finally see you again, man. I thought you were never gonna get outta there...I was really worried about you.” 

James shakes his head. “Aw, that’s really sweet of you. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m a big boy. I can hold my own.”

  
  
“I know you are. I’m so sorry you had to go through that hell. All because of a stupid mistake…” 

James frowns. “It’s okay. I’m gonna put all that behind me now...start over somehow...with the right person, when the time’s right.”

  
  
Scott smiles. “Alright, man. Just as long as you're happy with yourself. Let’s blow this shit-hole, huh? I’m feelin’ uncomfortable. No offense.”

  
  
“None taken. It’s understandable, man. Let’s get out of here. I can’t wait to go home and sleep in my own bed for once.” 

Scott nods. “I don’t blame you. There’s nothing better than bein’ in your own home.”

  
  
The two share a hug before Scott revs the engine, pulling through the gate once more and peeling onto the street, heading back to the suburbs they lived in.

  
  
James lets out a happy sigh, not even bothering to look back at that hell hole he called “prison.” 

A better life was just on the horizon...he felt it in his gut. 


	2. Chapter 2

One of the fist things James did once he got home was get his hair cut, getting rid of the untamed lion’s mane he’d grown while in prison and replacing it with a much shorter and comfortable look. 

  
  


His beard and mustache trimmed ever so delicately, leaving him with a nice, clean goatee. 

  
  


Overall, this simple action gave James somewhat of a new identity, made him feel like a brand new person, who was ready for anything life had to throw his way. 

  
  


James hadn’t felt this confident about himself in years, so much so, that he became a member of a local motorcycle gang, seeing how his Harley Davidson had sat in his garage for the past seven years, yearning to be ridden again. 

  
  


They’d been meeting up at The Amber Moon, a local bar, on weekends to hang out and just have a good time, and James loved every minute he spent with his new friends. 

  
  


He hadn’t felt this happy in a very long time and finally felt like he was someone again, not having to worry about being seen as a criminal, which he definitely wasn’t and would never be. 

  
  


Sure, there’d been times where people had seen him and his friends riding their motorcycles through the streets, clad in spiked leather jackets and steel toe boots, no cares in the world as they were silently being judged. 

  
  


He didn’t let that bother him, though, because he knew they were more on the friendly side, as opposed to some gangs, who thrived on violence and terrorizing every city they passed through. 

  
  


After his time in prison, he sometimes worried that people would recognize him and bring up the past, but thankfully, no one has, and James has been living in peace. 

  
  


Now, as he sat on a bar stool beside Scott, James couldn’t have been happier, already having thrown back a few pints of beer and downed a delicious burger, thanks to the chef.

  
  
  
He couldn’t help but to blush as one of bartenders, Kirk, flirted with him, complimenting him on how attractive he is and droning on about how much he has a thing for bikers. 

  
  


“Kirk, I’ve told you before, I don’t swing that way, man…” James says, frowning at the look on Kirk’s face.

  
  
  
“Aw, come on, Jamie. Haven’t you ever wondered what it’d be like to play for the other team...just once? That’s all it would be...one time.” 

  
  


James scoffs, biting his lip. “I don’t think so, buddy. Look, you’re pretty and all that, but I just can’t see myself havin’ sex with a guy.”

  
  
  
Kirk shakes his head as he cleans out one of the glasses, placing it back with the others once he’s finished. 

  
  


Scott grins coyly as he elbows James playfully.

  
  


“Yeah, Jamie? Why  _ don’t  _ you try getting in a good fuck, huh? Look at how desperate this man is! You two may as well hop behind the bar and screw each other silly!” 

  
  


James rolls his eyes at that, pushing against Scott lightly as he makes his way over to the nearby pool table, where two more of his friends, a fiery redhead named Dave and a friendly blonde named David, were engaged in a rousing game of pool. 

  
  


“Hey, man. Wanna play a game with us?” Dave asks, grabbing another pool cue from the rack on the wall, holding it out for James to take. 

  
  


James shook his head. “Nah, I think I’m just gonna try my hands at the dart board tonight..I wanna see if I can hit the target as well as I did last time.” 

  
  


Dave frowned slightly, but nodded. “Sure, do whatever you wanna do. There’s always next time.”

  
  
  
He watched James walk over to the dartboard before turning his attention back to David, who’d already sunk the 8 ball into the corner pocket. 

  
  


“Nice, David. You just couldn’t wait until I was ready to start, could you?” He sighs. 

  
  


David furrowed his brows as he shook his head, wrapping his arms around Dave and hugging him from behind.

  
  
  
“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll make sure I tell you next time, okay?” He says, pressing a kiss to Dave’s cheek as an apology. 

  
  


Dave sighs softly, returning the kiss with a smile, giving David’s ass a playful squeeze before returning to the game. 

  
  


James inhales sharply as he stands in front of the dartboard, steadying himself before throwing the first dart, which miraculously lands right in the middle. 

  
  


“Hell yeah!” He cheers, picking up another dart and throwing it, feeling a bit disappointed whenever it hits the top of the board, though it wasn’t a big deal. 

  
  


James sighs softly as he holds the last dart in his hand, lining himself up with the dartboard and relaxing, steadying himself once more before throwing the dart and letting out a triumphant noise whenever it lands in the middle.

  
  
  
“Yeah! That was awesome, man!” Scott grins as he approaches James, downing the last drink of beer in the mug he was holding. 

  
  


James shakes his head. “Oh, it was nothing, really. Just sheer luck, is what it really was. Plus, being as tall as I am has its advantages.”

  
  


Scott frowned. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” 

  
  


“Nothing, short stuff...I just think if you’re taller you’ll be able to do things like throw darts better.”

  
  
  
“Short stuff? Come on, man! I’m not the shortest person here...Kirk’s pretty short, too!”

  
  
  
Kirk perked up at that, turning his attention from the drink he was pouring, to James and Scott. 

  
  


“What? What’s going on? What’d I do this time?” The short haired filipino asks, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

  
  


James shakes his head. “Nothing. I was just messing with Scott. Everything’s okay.” 

  
  


Scott scoffs, crossing his arms. “Oh,  _ now  _ you tell me! You know how I feel about my height, man. Please don’t do that shit.” 

  
  


James frowns. “I’m sorry, man. That  _ was  _ pretty rude of me. You’re not  _ that  _ short…”

  
  
  
Scott throws his hands up at that, heading back to the same barstool he sat at before, ordering yet, another beer. 

  
  


“Well,  _ someone  _ sure is being touchy tonight. I think it’s best if I head out now. See you all next weekend…” James says, tugging on his leather jacket before leaving. 

  
  


Hopping onto the back of his Harley, James takes a cigarette from his jacket pocket, shielding it from the wind as he lights it, taking a puff from it before he puts the key into the ignition. 

  
  


He sits there for a moment and enjoys it before he officially decides to leave, revving the engine as he tears off down the street and into the night. 

  
  


As James cruises down the strip, he can’t can’t help but to notice a disturbance occurring in front of a run-down building, where it appeared that a homeless man was being harassed and beaten by a group of teenage thugs. 

  
  


The man was small and fairly short, he gave Scott a run for his money, and was trying his best and failing, to fight off his attackers, shielding his face as he was being tossed around. 

  
  


This didn’t sit right with James, who’d seen his fair share of violence from inside prison walls, and wasn’t about to drive by and let this poor man get beaten to death. 

  
  


Sure, there was a bit of an issue with the overwhelming homeless population in California, but that didn’t mean people had to go around beating them up for fun, or simply because they were bothered by their presence. 

  
  


Revving his engine, he races to the spot, parking just off the street and away from oncoming traffic.

  
  
  
Shutting off the engine, James scowls as he steps off his motorcycle, steel toe boot hitting the ground quite forcefully.

  
  
  
He scuffs out his cigarette and stares down the teens, who now had their attention diverted to him, the tallest and strongest holding the small homeless man up by his shirt collar. 

  
  


“What the fuck do you want, biker fag?” A dark-haired teen sneered at him, spitting on the front of his boots without shame. 

  
  


“I’d suggest that you don’t call me names. I’m  _ not  _ the one you wanna be doin’ that to. I’ve been in prison before and I can easily kick all your little asses.” James stated. 

  
  


The same dark-haired teen only smirked at him, throwing his hands up in the air sarcastically. 

  
  


“Oh no, guys! This fucker’s the real deal! He’s been to  _ prison  _ before...ooh, I’m _so_ scared…” He laughed. 

  
  


James growled at that though he knew he needed to keep his cool and not do anything drastic, seeing how he’d only gotten his freedom back a few months ago. 

  
  


He didn’t wanna lose it all again because of some stupid kid and his little fucking gang of miscreants. 

  
  


“Look...unless you want me to get ugly with you, I suggest you put that man down now.” James said, eyes narrowing at the tall, husky teen that was holding the man up. 

  
  


“Why don’t you just do what he says and put me down? He doesn’t tell your parents and I get to be left alone, everyone wins!” The man blurted out nervously, squirming and struggling beneath the thick fingers that held his shirt collar. 

  
  


The dark-hair teen only glared at the man before delivering a horrific punch to his gut, causing the man to cry out in pain.

  
  
  
James frowned, unable to watch them punch this small, defenseless man, deciding to take matters into his own hands.

  
  
  
He’d always carried a switchblade around with him just in case it was needed and although he knew he wasn’t really supposed to have it on his person after serving prison time, James kept it anyway. 

  
  


Drawing the knife from his jacket pocket, he flicked it open, showing the teens he meant business. 

  
  


“I’d suggest you drop that man and start runnin’, because you won’t be anything but shredded skin and clothes once I’m through with you...I learned a lot of techniques in prison I’d love to try on you three…” 

  
  


That seemed to get their attention, and within seconds they were gone, fleeing down the street and nearly tripping over each other as they ran away.

  
  


The man, however, had been dropped from the grip of the teen’s hand onto the hard concrete below, his head taking the blunt impact without any sort of protection.

  
  


James gasped at that, quickly kneeling down beside the man and lifting him up to examine his head, which was now sporting a pretty nasty gash in the back. 

  
  


What was even worse was the fact that the man seemed to be unconscious, as James had yet to hear him cry out in pain or make any sort of noise. 

  
  


“Hey...hey, man...are you okay? Can you hear me?” He asks repeatedly, shaking the man slightly, brows furrowing whenever he receives no sort of response. 

  
  


Biting his lip, James does the only responsible thing, lifting the man into his arms and seating him on his motorcycle, tying a clean bandana around his head to try and control the blood loss before heading to a nearby hospital. 

  
  


Thankfully, due to the nature of the man’s injuries, he’s able to be treated quickly, the doctor determining he’s suffered a traumatic brain injury along with some swelling and is very lucky to be alive. 

  
  


James also learns that the man’s name is Lars Ulrich, a dutch man who moved to America with his parents when he was young, and was left in control of their mansion after they passed. 

  
  


However, he was unable to keep up with all the bills and responsibilities that came with owning a mansion by himself and ended up homeless as the state took the house and nearly everything from him. 

  
  


He’d moved around from various different homeless shelters, but just didn’t feel like he fit in there, deciding to tough it out on his own in a city that was less than forgiving.

  
  


Of course, one can only imagine where that got him, seeing how he thought he was fully capable of caring for himself, unaware of just how terrifying and cold the lonely streets were at night. 

  
  


There were some nights he slept, others where he only saw sleep as a figment of his imagination, often sitting up and keeping his eye out for gangs, druggies or cops, who often busted him for loitering around businesses. 

  
  


That’s why he took to sleeping around abandoned ones, stealing his meal from a nearby dumpster and accepting any sort of money that was graciously given to him. 

  
  


Sure, that wasn’t an ideal life by any means, but it kept him alive, and for that, he was thankful. 

  
  


James had been sitting outside in the waiting room, guzzling down a cup of coffee and skimming through a magazine when the nurse came to get him.

  
  
  
“Would you like to go back and see him now? I think he wants to see you.”

  
  
  
James nods, putting the magazine down as he rises from the chair he was sitting in, discarding his now empty cup of coffee into a nearby trash can before following the nurse down the hall to Lars’ room. 

  
  


His heart sunk in his chest as he saw the poor little man propped up in his bed with the aid of a few pillows.

  
  
  
There were various bruises all along his arms, legs and even on his back from where he tried his hardest to fight against the thugs and from the impact of the fall he experienced. 

  
  


Looking into his eyes, James could tell something was off...but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

  
  


His pupils appeared to be dilated, with one being much larger than the other, and they appeared to be somewhat hazy, as if Lars was experiencing vision problems. 

  
  


“What’s wrong with his eyes? They aren’t really messed up, are they?” James asks, moving to take Lars’ hand as he reaches for him. 

  
  


The nurse shakes her head. “No. He’s got a little bit of damage to the left one, but it’ll get better as his brain tries to heal.” 

  
  


James breathes a sigh of relief at that, brows furrowing as he looks down at Lars once more, smiling softly once he sees that he’s fallen asleep. 

  
  


He didn’t want to leave Lars alone, so he decided he would stay overnight with him, to make sure he was okay. 

  
  


If Lars didn’t have a family left to care for him, then James would make it a priority to make him part of his. 

  
  


Besides, it’s not like he could leave him under the care of the state...not like this. 

  
  


No way in hell...


	3. Chapter 3

James awoke with a snort the next morning, rising from the chair he was sitting in and stretching, as it had done a number on his back and neck, which were now sore. 

  
Rubbing his neck, he looks over the tiny Dane lying in the bed in front of him, letting out a yawn as he begins to wake, brows furrowing as he reaches for James. 

  
Of course, James can’t resist, making his way over to the side of the bed and allowing Lars to grab at him, a smile gracing his features as he looked down at him. 

  
“Hey, buddy. How’re you feelin’? I can imagine it’s not very good, huh? You took a pretty nasty fall and I was worried you weren’t gonna make it for a while…” 

  
Lars just blinks at James, tilting his head slightly as he stares at him, trying to remember just how to talk...or if he even could. 

  
“Buh....huh…” The Dane babbles, voice garbled as he tries his hardest to form words, though it seemed he was unable to. 

  
James frowned at that, but nodded, looking up when a nurse entered the room with a cart of food, along with other miscellaneous items, one of them being a rather large medical diaper. 

  
Surely it was for another patient and not for Lars. 

  
“Good morning, Mr. Ulrich. Let’s see if you need changing before you try to eat your breakfast, huh?” The nurse smiled. 

  
James let out a soft sigh as he realized his suspicions about Lars needing diapers were true...but why? 

  
His bladder or bowels haven’t been damaged...he’d only suffered a hard blow to the head...a bit of brain damage, right?

  
“Excuse me...did you say he might need to have his diaper changed?” James questioned, watching as the nurse worked to get Lars untangled from his blanket. 

  
She nodded. “Yes. Unfortunately, since the brain damage he’s suffering from is so severe, he’ll have forgotten how to control his bowels and bladder or when it’s appropriate to go, so diapers will be necessary.” 

  
James frowned, but nodded, watching as the nurse began to change a rather fussy Lars into a dry diaper, shushing his whines and nonsensical babbles of protest. 

  
“Oh, Mr. Ulrich. You’re making such a fuss! Just hold still so I can get you all nice and dry again…” The nurse cooed, doing her best to calm the small, upset man. 

  
Moving to try and help the nurse, James gently grabs Lars’ hand and holds it, shushing him as he begins to rub the top. 

  
“Shhh…it’s alright, buddy. I know, that’s probably not very fun, but you gotta be still so she can get you changed!” 

  
James shares a look with the nurse whenever Lars begins to slowly calm down, chewing on the collar of his gown as he allows the nurse to wipe him clean, a soft noise escaping him. 

  
“Hmm, looks like I’ve still got it. I used to have a young son and that’s what I did to calm him during diaper changes...it worked every time.” 

  
She smiles, slipping a new diaper beneath Lars’ bottom and taping it on snugly. “Well, you’re obviously magic or something.”

  
James chuckles. “No, I’m not. I just have strong paternal instincts. Even though he’s not a baby, I just felt like I had to treat him as such..because of how his brain is.” 

  
She nods, disposing of the wet diaper and her gloves before washing her hands in the nearby sink. 

  
“I understand that completely, I have a 10 month old daughter at home and she's my whole world. Dad’s a deadbeat who left after she was born, so I’m on my own.” 

  
James frowns, shaking his head. “I’m sorry to hear that. My son’s mother was pretty shitty, always drinking and passing out while she was supposed to be watching him.” 

  
“Sounds like we both had our fair share of bad spouses, huh?” The nurse says, tugging on a new pair of gloves. 

  
James nods, turning his attention back to Lars, who was now propped up against some pillows, eyes falling on the plate of food waiting on the cart beside the bed. 

  
“I think he might be hungry.” He chuckles, moving the cart so that it was on the opposite side, opening the carton of milk. 

  
The nurse nods. “Okay. Well, I need to go check on the patient next door, so I guess I’ll leave you in charge of him for now.” 

  
“Alright. We should be fine. I’ve raised a baby before, so taking care of a baby-like man should be no different.” 

  
James watches the nurse leave before turning to Lars, who was reaching for the food as hard as he possibly could, managing to grip the milk carton in his clumsy hands. 

  
Of course, since he no longer knew how to hold it properly, he ended up squeezing it, causing semi-cold milk to ooze out of the paper carton and all over the front of his gown. 

  
Before he could even speak, James was met with a plethora of upset whines, followed by a wet, garbled cry as the little Dane began to squirm uncomfortably, hating the wet feeling. 

  
“Oh, shit. Hold on, buddy. I’ll fix it…” James coos, looking through one of the nearby cabinets and taking out a gown along with a diaper in case it was needed for later. 

  
Moving the cart out of the way, James shushes Lars’ cries as he works carefully to remove the wet gown, tossing it onto the floor. 

  
He examines Lars’ body for any wet spots before maneuvering his arms through the sleeves and tying the back, running a hand over Lars’ head to calm him, seeing how he was still upset. 

  
“Shhh...shhh....it’s alright now. I know, it wasn’t very fun being all wet, but I got it all fixed. Let’s try some of your breakfast before it becomes lunch time, huh?” 

  
“Buh...bw...bwre-fas’?” Lars babbles, looking to James, then at the covered tray of food on the table that was now located across the room. 

  
James nods, unable to keep from smiling at how cute Lars sounded as he babbled to him, just like an infant learning his first words. 

  
“Yeah, buddy, we’re gonna have some yummy breakfast!” He says, uncovering the tray of food with a slight frown. 

  
James had seen and eaten his fair share of disgusting food in prison, but none of it looked nearly as bad as this. 

  
The eggs were wet, a strange yellow liquid surrounding them, and the oatmeal was the same consistency as mud and James wasn’t sure that he wanted Lars to eat that. 

  
“Damn...and I thought prison food was bad…” James says, sighing softly as he decides to try feeding Lars the oatmeal first, scooping some onto a plastic spoon. 

  
He then makes sure Lars is sitting up properly, using his free arm to lift the tiny man’s body, propping him up against a few pillows. 

  
“There ya go. I wouldn’t want you to choke.” James says, bringing the spoonful of food to Lars’ mouth after. 

  
Lars sniffs the food curiously before leaning forward and accepting the amount that was on the spoon, lips smacking as he struggled to swallow the thick, gruel-like substance. 

  
“I know, it’s pretty thick, huh, buddy? I can try puttin’ some water in it and see if that makes it better.” 

  
James grabs the plastic cup that was on the edge of the table, filling it halfway with water before mixing some into the oatmeal, which instantly thinned out enough for Lars to eat it. 

  
Nodding to himself, he then brings another spoonful of oatmeal to Lars’ mouth, chuckling whenever most of it dribbled down his chin and onto the front of his gown. 

  
Lars couldn’t be bothered by the mess he was making as he continued to eat all that was offered to him, a happy humming sound escaping his lips as he was being fed, enjoying all the attention. 

  
“You sure are a messy eater, little guy! My goodness! What am I gonna do with you, huh?” James coos. 

  
Lars shakes his head in response. “No…”

  
James nods. “Yes. You’re a very messy boy. I think I need to buy you a bib since you’re eating like a baby.” 

  
Lars shakes his head once more. “No! No bay-bee…” 

  
“Okay, but I’m just sayin’...you still need a bib to protect your gown and clothes after I take you home.” 

  
Lars’ brows furrow at that and he tilts his head at the mention of the word “home”.

  
He couldn’t remember having a home...or having anyone to take care of him, all he could remember was being dropped onto the hard sidewalk..and that felt like eons ago. 

  
James frowns at the look on Lars’ face, as if he were in discomfort. 

  
Naturally, he moved to check his diaper, finding it to be clean and dry, checking his clothes, skin and head after as he knew Lars’ head had to be extremely sore. 

  
It’s then that he realized he’d mentioned the “h” word, frowning as he wondered if Lars even remembered he was homeless before this whole ordeal happened. 

  
“Ho’?” Lars questions, head still tilted in confusion as he tried to remember the past, though it was all fuzzy.

  
James nods. “Yeah, buddy. You’re gonna come live with me, in my home, and I’ll take good care of you from now on.” 

  
Lars tries to understand what James is saying, but is still really confused. 

  
However, he _does_ understand what going to James’ home meant, and he was happy about it, grabbing at James with a smile. 

  
James returns the smile, wiping Lars' face before giving him a hug, being careful of his sore head and back, which was sporting a huge, nasty bruise. 

  
“I can’t wait until you get out of here. I’ll have to set up a special room and everything for you...you’re gonna put me to work.” 

  
Lars shakes his head with a playful giggle. “No…”

  
James nods, chuckling softly. “Yes, you are! I’ll have to find out if you can walk and all that stuff before I buy you a special bed. I want you to be safe.” 

  
He looks up once the same nurse from before enters the room to check back up on them, smiling at how well Lars was interacting with James. 

  
“Just face it...you’re magic! I mean look at him...he looks so happy...he obviously likes you!” 

  
James chuckles. “Well, I sure hope he likes me...I’m starting to like him, too.” 

  
She smiles as she checks Lars’ blood pressure, gathering up supplies to draw blood with as well.

  
“Your blood pressure is great, Mr. Ulrich! Keep up the good work! Now, I need to borrow a little bit of your blood…” 

  
She ties a tourniquet around Lars’ upper left arm, quickly finding a vein and disinfecting the area, allowing it to dry while she prepares the syringe. 

  
Lars lets out a whimper whenever he sees the needle, not wanting that thing anywhere near him. 

  
James frowns at hearing Lars’ whimper, moving to gently stroke his hair in an attempt to keep him calm as he didn’t want him to try and fight the nurse. 

  
“It’s okay, buddy. It’s just gonna be a little pinch, then it’ll be all over and you won’t have to do it again for a while.” 

  
This seems to soothe Lars and he relaxes, leaning back against his pillows. 

  
The nurse makes sure Lars is calm enough before she carries on, carefully inserting the needle and breathing a sigh as the blood flows into the tube. 

  
Lars whimpers from the pain, shivering slightly as he loses control of both his bladder and bowels, a wet cry escaping him as he lies there in his own mess. 

  
“Well, it seems my work is never done, huh? I’ll take care of that diaper as soon as I finish getting all the blood I need.” 

  
James frowns slightly. “I can do that for you. I mean, I used to change my son all the time...messy diapers are no big deal. I’ve seen worse in prison.” 

  
“Okay. I’ll be sure to leave some extra diapers and cleaning supplies with you in case they’re needed.” She says, removing the needle from Lars’ arm along with the tourniquet. 

  
After a bandage is placed over the bleeding area, she opens the bottom of the cart, pulling out a few diapers along with wipes and powder.

  
“I’ll go take this blood to the lab and check on you two later, just call the front desk if you need anything else.” 

  
James nods. “Thank you.” 

  
He watches the nurse leave once more, turning his attention back to Lars, who was still crying, squirming and kicking weakly as his mess continued to irritate his skin. 

  
“Hold on. I’m gonna get you changed, okay? Give me just a minute, here.” James says, pushing up Lars’ gown and cringing at the mess on the bed pad, which he quickly removes. 

  
“Oh, man, buddy...you sure _did_ have an accident, didn’t you? Poor little thing…let’s get you outta that.” 

  
He shushes Lars’ cries as he carefully lifts his legs, sliding another bed pad beneath his bottom and cleaning off some of the mess that had seeped out of the diaper. 

  
“I’d say you need thicker diapers but I don’t think they make them any thicker than this!” James says, unfolding the new diaper and placing it aside. 

  
He then gets to work changing Lars into a clean, dry diaper, only cringing slightly at the mess, though he was honestly more astounded than anything, wondering how such a small man could poop so much. 

  
“You _really_ don’t do well with hospital food, do you, buddy?” He asks, smiling at the fact that Lars had finally calmed down and was looking quite sleepy. 

  
The little Dane lets out a yawn as he struggles to stay awake, rubbing at his eyes and whining at the itchy sensation. 

  
Sprinkling on a generous amount of powder, James then gets the new diaper taped on nice and snug, making sure it would fit Lars comfortably before giving his bare, tiny tummy a soothing rub. 

  
“There we go. I bet that feels much better, doesn’t it, little guy? You’re lucky I’m here to take care of you, huh?” 

  
Lars gives a sleepy noise as he lets out another yawn, relaxing against his pillows as he feels his eyelids drift shut. 

  
James smiles as he watches the little Dane sleep, turning off the light and shutting the nearby curtain before sitting down in the chair he’d previously slept in. 

  
“Sweet dreams, little guy...I know you’re going to need them.” 


End file.
